


What Makes Us Human

by raven_conspiracy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Not Canon Compliant, Pregnancy, Season 9 - Canon Divergence, Smut, Unprotected Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:14:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25651198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_conspiracy/pseuds/raven_conspiracy
Summary: Three years ago, Seraphina Flynn said goodbye to the hunter life. And Castiel. Or so she thought.When Castiel shows up at her door, short of all the things that made him an angel, it becomes her responsibility to not only take care of him, but show him all the things that make someone human.
Relationships: Castiel (Supernatural)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Wish You Were Here

  
╭⋟────────────────────────╮  
1  
【ｗｉｓｈ ｙｏｕ ｗｅｒｅ ｈｅｒｅ】  
  
`“How I wish, how I wish you were here  
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl year after year  
Runnin' over the same old ground, what have we found?  
The same old fears, wish you were here.”`  
╰────────────────────────⋞╯  


It had been three years since she had any direct contact with the Winchesters. Three years since she and her siblings had left the hunter life. Three long, glorious, and surprisingly peaceful years.

Well, for her and her siblings at least. It had been anything but for the Winchesters, based on the happenings she caught wind of. And in spite of every single fiber of her being screaming out to get involved, she hadn’t. She had hung up her metaphorical hunter hat and retired years ago, had made that transition into being just a normal civilian. 

Their careers as hunters had started with the murder of their parents in 2006 and ended with helping the Winchesters stop the Apocolypse in 2010. Those four years had been packed full of more than enough insanity for her and her siblings to crave normalcy. They got it, and so did she.

She had a normal job, normal friends, normal family -- normal _everything_.

So when she answered her cell phone, the _last_ voice she expected to hear was Dean Winchester’s. 

“Heya, Phi,” he drawled, casual as ever. “How’s it goin’?”

Seraphina brought her free hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Dean,” she sighed. “Can we skip the pleasantries? Just tell me what you want.”

“Well, that’s one helluva way to greet an old friend,” Dean quipped. “But, fine, alright. Straight t’ business. You, uh, pick up a newspaper lately?”

She rolled her eyes. “Newspaper? No. It’s not the 40’s. Internet, though? Yes. Just what the hell have you and Sam been doing since we helped shove Lucifer back into his cage? Before anything, how did Sam even get _out?_ But there were reports of _dragons_ running amok, which, by the way, haven’t been seen or hunted in over 700 years. _Then_ , there’s some new hybrid monsters I hear of--”

“Jefferson Starships.” Dean interrupted. 

Seraphina pauses, but only for a moment before continuing. “Then, I turn on the TV and can’t get a single channel or news segment _without_ Castiel starring on screen as some kind of all-powerful new God. Then there’s the Leviathans -- and do _not_ get me started on that -- and just when I think everything is quiet, there’s rumors that you went _missing_ for a year? And now...and _now_ angels were falling from the sky! So enlighten me as to _what_ you, Sam, and Castiel have been doing.”

There was silence on the other end, and Seraphina waited patiently, striding from her living room into her kitchen. 

Finally, Dean heaved out a breath. “Nothin’ gets by you. Thought you were outta the life.”

“I am,” she insisted, tone shifting to something far more gentle as she leaned against one of the counters. “Didn’t mean I stopped caring about you all. So, yeah, of course I kept up-to-date as much as I could. From a distance.”

“I get it,” he grumbled. “Look, I don’t exactly have time to...y’know...fill ya in on every little thing that happened, but there’s someone who can.” Seraphina let out a hum of acknowledgment to let him know she was listening. “It’s...Cas, actually. Somethin’ happened -- somethin’ big -- and he’s in Colorado right now. I told him to make his way to you.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “To me? Why?”

“It’s…” Dean trailed off, as if searching for a word that would fit. Eventually, he settled on, “Complicated. It’s complicated.”

“When isn’t it with you Winchesters?” Seraphina mumbled, earning a single huff of laughter from Dean.

“You’re tellin’ me. But, uh, yeah. Quick question. Your house still got all that warding in the walls and shit?”

She cocked her head to the side curiously, pursing her lips. “It...it does, yes. Hasn’t been tampered with since my grandparents bought this place in 1950.”

She really didn’t want to ask why he had made that inquiry. 

“Good,” he said, relief heavy in his tone. She also noted how he sounded so...exhausted. “Look, I know I’m askin’ a lot. You got out and I hate to drag you right back in, but I need all the help I can get.”

Seraphina closed her eyes. “Dean, it’s...it’s okay, alright? Whatever’s going on, I’m more than willing to help any way I can.”

“I--I…” Dean cleared his throat to cover the way his voice cracked. Seraphina refrained from mentioning it. “I appreciate it, Phi.”

“No problem, Dean,” she said, voice quiet. “Tell Sam I said ‘hey’, okay?”

There was a long pause where Dean didn’t say anything. She could only hear the sound of his breathing coming from the other end of the phone. Her chest suddenly got tight and the air felt like it had become incredibly thin around her. 

In that moment she knew. Something was wrong with Sam. 

“I will,” Dean replied, voice suddenly tight, emotion threatening to break through. “I, uh...gotta go. Cas should be there within a day or so. Just, uh, lemme know when he gets there.”

“Of course,” she answered, keeping her tone as delicate as possible. “Will do, Dean.”

And just like that, she was back to the suffocating, lonely silence of her home, standing in her kitchen. A torrent of emotionally charged memories assailed her mind, inundating her with feelings she had thought she had successfully buried. But she knew that burying things never worked in anyone’s favor. They could say it did -- after all, _she_ had -- but it never worked out.

For three long years, she had tried to move on. Not just from the hunter life, but all of the complications and intricacies that had come with it. Her siblings had successfully reintegrated with civilian life.

After they helped Sam and Dean stuff Lucifer back into his hole, life had resumed as normal for the Flynn family. They had all returned to Montana, the majority of them settling in their home city of Missoula. 

Nathaniel and his wife were closer to the University of Montana, where he picked up his old job as a professor. His wife, Jenn, carried on as a stay-at-home mom to their two children, Ingrid and Atticus. 

Michaela married her long-time college boyfriend Peter, and the two welcomed little Marie two years ago. It came as no surprise when Michaela returned to her work as an accountant. Unlike the rest of the family, she didn’t reside in Missoula, instead finding her home in Helena, roughly two hours away.

Samael graduated college and immediately went to work as a Human Resources Coordinator at the same company Seraphina worked at. She’d never admit it, but her and Samael were always the closest and she had been more than thrilled when she found out they’d both be working at Emerson Payroll Corp. He and his fiancée Alyssa were planning on getting married next year. 

And then the baby of the family, Muriel. Poor Muriel had only been 12 when their parents were killed by demons. They had all jointly agreed that she should stay out of the hunter life. Her life had never strayed far from normalcy, luckily. Now 19, Muriel currently attended the University of Montana, working towards her degree in elementary education. 

All of them had reassimilated with little to no problems. Within a year or less, they had returned to leading normal lives. None of them missed the chaos or the danger. They didn’t have nightmares. They easily ignored any sign of monsters or demons or angels. 

For Seraphina, it had been difficult. So difficult. 

At first, she had blamed it on the fact that she was the only one living in their old family home. It was a locale filled to the brim with constant reminders about her parents, reminders about what all of them had been involved in. 

But that wasn’t the truth of it. Not really. It had nothing to do with where she lived, no matter how hard she tried to convince herself of that. It wasn’t because she lived alone in the house, either. 

It had _everything_ to do with Castiel. 

She could still remember the moment that she met him, an actual living angel. In the flesh! He had taken her breath away, stunned her into pure, unshakable silence. In all of her life, she had never thought she would ever get the chance to meet a literal angel. 

Unlike her siblings, Seraphina had initially followed in their parents’ footsteps. While they were off attending college or leading normal lives, she had invested her time in the vast collection of family knowledge. Like her parents and her father’s parents, Seraphina became a scholar in angelology, with a minor, less interested focus on theology. In their massive, old, Victorian home, there was a study filled with tomes and books that kept her occupied for hours at a time. 

Angelic lore was always a welcome sight, something that captivated her endlessly. Unlike her siblings, she _understood_ her parents’ intrigue in the topic. She had invested years into learning everything she could -- from Enochian to the namesakes of her siblings and herself, she devoted her time to learning all about it.

And when she had met Castiel, her hopes and expectations had been so high for him. But he and the other angels turned out to be so different than what she had anticipated. 

Sure, she hadn’t expected trademark robes of white and harps and halos, and in that regard, they exceeded her expectations. But what came as a shock was just how...insufferable the majority of them were. 

The warriors of Heaven didn’t feel anything like humanity’s protectors or shepherds. In fact, most of them harbored either disgust, hatred, bitterness, jealousy, or a mix of everything. In a way, it was all very reminiscent of Lucifer. 

Zachariah and Uriel had always made their distaste for humans clear at all times. After interacting with them, Seraphina had a distinct and deep resentment towards the phrases “hairless apes” and “mud monkeys”. 

And the archangels? Probably the worst of the lot. 

Michael was a war monger that cared little for humanity’s place in the mix. Raphael was in full support of Michael and had barely a hair’s width of patience for humans.

The only one that was sort of okay was Gabriel, when she truly sat down to think about it. He was the most human, in a way. Though the way he shamelessly flirted with Seraphina had thrown her for a real loop. Back then, though, he had been known as the Trickster. When he had revealed himself as Gabriel, caught in a ring of holy fire, it made all of the teasing remarks and touches feel...sacrilegious. Even more so considering her middle name, Gabrielle, came from the archangel. 

And Lucifer? That went without saying, really. 

But in the middle of this entirely dysfunctional, celestial family, there was Castiel. 

He was so...literal and clueless, yet somehow so wise and so capable of being profound all at once. And though the angels of Heaven would staunchly disagree, his loyalty in the right cause was unwavering. 

In the two years that she had taken the time to know Castiel, she had watched him grow and change in so many ways. She had watched his free will come into being, something she had never thought angels capable of. She had watched him make choices that favored the Winchesters and their fight to stop the Apocalypse. 

She had witnessed him _rebel_ against Heaven. And she had watched him die and come back into being. 

Castiel affected her in ways she never could have fathomed. And she thought she had left all of that back in the past, back in 2010 when she had said goodbye.

That had just been a pitiful pipedream, though.

Years later, she could count the number of dates she had gone on with one hand. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the fact that she missed Castiel, or _how much_ she missed him. There were numerous times in the past three years that she had thought back on her time with the Winchesters, but every memory led right back to the blue-eyed angel. To say she felt fondly for him was an abhorrent understatement. 

With Castiel, there had been conversations about Heaven, about angels, about history lost to humanity. There were so many times in which they had taught each other things -- her about angelkind and him about humankind. Oftentimes, she would stay awake with him when he had the time, and their talks would last until she could no longer hold her eyes open. And everytime, she would find herself waking up in a place she hadn’t fallen asleep in; he would always ensure to move her to a couch or a bed, and eventually he had started draping a blanket over her slumbering form.

He found her family’s history interesting and listened openly and willingly to her talk about it. He recognized that all of them were named after angels, first and middle names both. He even had stories to tell when it came to some of their namesakes.

And he was the only one that she allowed to call her by her full name. She had always insisted that she be called “Phi”, but when Castiel said her name? It made her chest constrict. Hearing her name in that deep gravel had always made her head swim in a way she had refused to address or confess to. 

It had not taken long for her to fall in love with him. But it was a feeling she recognized could never be reciprocated. 

So, for those two years, she had simply loved Castiel without expectation or hope for anything in return. He had gone from a questionable ally to a trusted friend much faster than she had anticipated, and somewhere along the way, trusted friend had become so much more to her. And she was in deep. 

And after three years, she was _still_ in deep. Only now, there was no way around it, no way to avoid it or ignore it or pretend it didn’t exist. In a day’s time, Castiel would show up on her doorstep after three years.

She dared to wonder how much he had changed in those three years. 

With a sigh, she pried herself away from the kitchen counter and went to work on making herself dinner. In between pulling out ingredients, she used her free hand to shoot a quick email to her boss, explaining that she wouldn’t be in tomorrow. She left the email purposefully vague, wishing to not provoke a series of questions. 

With the email sent off, she put her full focus onto making dinner. She tried to ignore the way her stomach twisted itself into knots as the full weight of her conversation with Dean suddenly slammed into her without reprieve. 

This time tomorrow, she would be seeing Castiel again. In person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!
> 
> With all of the craziness that's going on in the world right now, I've been burying myself in Supernatural, and a couple of weeks ago plowed through The Fall arc. And I gotta say, I _love_ angel Cas. But there's something about our favorite trenchcoat-wearing angel being human, trying to learn the nuances of what it means to _be_ human (high-fives, jobs, and throwing things in the trash included) that makes him all the more adorable.
> 
> So, that being said, this will deviate from canon. And if you're okay with that, welcome aboard! Comments and kudos are welcomed and encouraged, and I hope to keep everyone entertained. Also, please be forgiving of spelling/grammatical errors, as I beta these myself and I am human and might miss some things!
> 
> Have a great morning/afternoon/evening/night, and I'll be seeing you all in the next chapter!


	2. Making Mistakes

  
╭⋟────────────────────────╮  
2  
【ｍａｋｉｎｇ ｍｉｓｔａｋｅｓ】  
  
`“Freedom is not worth having if it does not include the freedom to make mistakes.”  
- Mahatma Gandhi`  
╰────────────────────────⋞╯  


Making the trip from Colorado to Montana used to be easy. All it had taken was a mere thought, and his wings would have carried him to wherever it was that he wanted to be. A process that had only taken seconds before now took him nearly an entire day.

But the travel time had become the very least of his problems. His very _human_ problems, things that he had never had to worry about as an angel. 

When he fell to Earth, he had nearly been hit by a truck. Instinct had him diving from its path, and when he rose to his feet, he was perplexed to find his palms had been shredded by the gravel on the side of the road. And it _hurt_ , it _stung_. Pain as a human was a persistent, lingering nuisance, something that he had never truly experienced as a Seraph. Not quite like this. 

His vessel - no, his _body_ \- only sustained more damage after the debacle with the angel Hael, who he had foolishly thought would be willing to actually help him. It had ended in bloodshed he desperately wished could have been avoided. He left the wreckage limping, bruised, and exhausted. 

But while he was more than capable of ignoring the searing pain of his cuts and bruises, it was the hunger that he couldn’t disregard. It twisted his insides into knots, made his head feel light and woozy, and made him feel as if he’d begin dry heaving at the side of the road any second. 

The thirst was worse, though. His body felt lethargic, like every muscle was reluctant to cooperate with what his mind commanded. Dizziness assaulted his senses, and he nearly toppled over more than a few times. His tongue felt like sandpaper in his mouth, dry and thick and rough, and swallowing had gotten so difficult he could hardly focus. 

It stopped only when a truck driver pulled over and picked him up from the roadside, offering him water and a sugary treat wrapped in plastic. The trucker had called them Twinkies, had said they were the best of road snacks. Castiel had nothing to compare the taste to, but had enjoyed the spongy, yellow sweets filled with sugary cream. Without every molecule assailing his senses, he was able to taste the sugary confection for what it was. And while he enjoyed it, he had decided that it was too sweet for his tastes - perhaps it’d serve as a good treat once in a while, but not frequently.

And then there was the exhaustion, the fundamental need for sleep. Castiel couldn’t think of a time where he had been fully unconscious, willingly. Yet, the longer he stayed awake, the harder it became to function, to process the most basic of things in his mind. His lack of sleep slowed him down, left him frustrated in a way he had never been before in his entire state of being. 

There were so many things about being human that he already had a deep resentment for. Hunger, thirst, sleep, pain. They were all things that he never even had to think about as an angel, and now they were the primary necessities that ruled his entire life. If he didn’t work to satiate the need for these basic things, he’d die.

And as he stared down at the scabby mess of his palms, he found himself wondering how Sam and Dean managed to do all the things that they did, no matter how battered their bodies were. There was a newfound appreciation for the things that the Winchesters did that Castiel made a mental note of, so that he could inform them of it later. 

As a human, he felt pitifully fragile, so easily broken. As a human, he felt like he had lost everything that made him...well, _him_.

Though his focus had shifted back to the matter at hand. Which was getting to Missoula, Montana. To Seraphina. 

When Dean had told him to make his way to her, Castiel had felt an all-too-familiar throb in his chest. It was an amalgamation of feelings that the angel had never been capable of putting into words, but it was apparent that his bond with her was profound. He had said the same for Dean, but with Seraphina, it was a bond that had an entirely different kind of intensity. It was unmistakably unique in ways he couldn’t possibly begin to explain. Or comprehend, for that matter. 

It was a connection so vastly different from anything he had ever had before. It wasn’t familial. It was a series of feelings that made his thoughts twist onto paths both rational and irrational all at once. 

They were the very same feelings that kept him away from her for the past three years. The same feelings that made him respect her wishes to return to a normal life. The same feelings that made him put what she wanted above what he wanted - which was to see her. The same feelings that made everything around him seemingly grind to a halt whenever she had prayed to him over the past three years. 

Intermingled with the chaos of what his life had become, he always had time to think of her, and always with a fondness that felt oddly natural. 

And now, he wondered if she’d be willing to resume their friendship after everything that he had done, what he had become. It was a thought that plagued his mind relentlessly. The guilt he felt was brutal and unforgiving, and it only got worse when his mind wandered to Seraphina. 

But, he supposed, he would find out soon enough. 

The trucker dropped him off in southern Montana and Castiel was fortunate enough to hitch another ride with someone else all the way to downtown Missoula. The remainder of his journey would have to be by foot, which wasn’t something he felt compelled to complain about. 

It was late at night by the time he made it to Seraphina’s house, and he found that he couldn’t place the feelings that were racing through his mind. He distracted himself with the fact that this would be the first time he would be able to see the interior of her home. As an angel, he had a difficult time even setting foot onto her property. She and her siblings had explained that when their grandparents purchased the home, they remained steadfast in the belief that their research and knowledge needed to be protected at all costs. 

The oldest of their tomes dated all the way back to the 1600s, the particular volume one of many that were handwritten by members of the Flynn family. Another old volume, written by Fionn Ó Floinn (they later anglicised their name to _Flynn_ ) in 1740 detailed the _Bliain an Áir _, or the Year of Slaughter. It had since become known more commonly as the Irish Famine. Castiel could still remember the look on Seraphina’s face when he explained to her - with almost a sense of sheepiness - that the fluctuating weather had been the result of temperamental angels. It was partially why angels weren’t usually allowed to roam the Earth so freely anymore.__

__Majority of the older tomes were written in Irish, too, something that had annoyed Dean beyond just simple, mild irritation. The Flynns had found his gruff exasperation amusing. In the end, it had been Seraphina who had enough patience to translate things for him._ _

__Castiel had only seen a select few of the books that Seraphina had generously allowed to leave her family’s home. But now, standing on the massive wraparound porch, right in front of her door, he looked forward to being able to see the entire arsenal that was the result of centuries of collecting knowledge._ _

__But he’d be lying if he said that was all he’d be looking forward to. He’d also be lying if he said that’s what he looked forward to the most._ _

__No. He knew what he really looked forward to most of all out of all of this._ _

__Castiel had raised his hand to knock, but the tall, thick, forest green door swung open. His hand dropped back to his side immediately, hanging there limply as he stared down at her._ _

__What struck him the most was how much she had changed since he had last seen her._ _

__When he had seen Seraphina last, she had been covered in dirt and grime and blood (most of which had been his). She had been wearing fitted clothes underneath an army-green utility jacket, all of which were stained, battered, and torn-up. Stress and constantly being on the move during hunts had left her dangerously thin, something that had often been a source of concern for not only her siblings, but Sam and Dean as well. And Castiel. And her blue eyes had always been so dull and dark, grim with the expectation that there was always something waiting just around the corner for her and her family._ _

__She was still very much the same person, but she had clearly changed. They weren’t bad changes, Castiel decided. She looked...healthier._ _

__The first thing he noticed was how in the past three years, she had grown her hair out. The loose, thick copper curls used to end at her chin, but now they poured down to the middle of her back. And the locks were no longer unruly, sticking out every which way or pushed back with a headband. They were parted off-center, majority to the right of her head. Her hair framed her pale face like a fiery halo._ _

__Her skin, now devoid of blood, dirt, and bruises, was still incredibly pale. Like varying shades of red hair, the porcelain skin was something all of the Flynn siblings shared. Her cheeks were rosier and more filled out now, and there wasn’t a single wound that needed tending to. And without any of the muck or damage on her visage, he could see the light freckles that peppered her entire face. He rarely got to see those, especially when they were last together. The last he saw her, there was blood running freely across her eye from a split eyebrow. If he squinted, he could just barely see the scar of where it had been._ _

__But her eyes. They were truly something to behold._ _

__Seraphina’s eyes had always been a startling blue, the ocean orbs holding an unmistakable intensity. Before, they had been dulled by exhaustion, stress, and sorrow. But now, they were bright with hope and happiness._ _

__Though Castiel could see something else, even without being an angel. Perhaps a lingering sadness from her days as a hunter, probably because she was looking at someone that reminded her so thoroughly of that time._ _

__All of that in a split moment, a moment that seemed to drag on for eternity._ _

__“Hello, Seraphina.”_ _

__Her lips parted into a smile. “Hello, Castiel. Come on inside, please.”_ _

__For a beat, Castiel hesitated as she stepped to the side to let him in. He had expected some kind of warding to hold him away, but as a human, there was nothing to ward. Not anymore. Instead, he was able to walk into her home, able to step into the foyer. It became immediately apparent that her home was one of warm comforts._ _

__The walls of the foyer were beige, complimenting the cherry wood railing of the stairs that climbed upwards. Overhead, a glass and wrought iron light sent out a warm yellow glow across the space. Castiel felt comforted and welcomed._ _

__“Your home. It’s lovely.”_ _

__Seraphina laughed airily. “I forgot you weren’t ever able to come inside before,” she paused and Castiel inhaled sharply and held his breath as her expression softened. “Perks of being human.”_ _

__So she knew. Or she at least had an idea. He couldn’t say he was surprised. Seraphina was one of the most well-versed angelologists that he had ever met. She knew things that no human should._ _

__“One of them, I suppose,” Castiel answered, glancing down to his palms. They ached and burned. “I assume you wish to know what happened?”_ _

__“Dean said you’d explain,” she said quietly. “But first, let’s get you out of those bloody clothes and patched up, okay? You can tell me while I work.”_ _

__Castiel shifted his eyes from his palms to her face. She was looking at him expectantly, her body turning towards the stairs, hand resting daintily on the railing. Odd how she could seem so delicate, but he knew what those hands were capable of._ _

__But that wasn’t the thought he chose to linger on._ _

__Since he had become human, she was the first person to look at him like he was the same. In the past 24 hours, he had found he missed that familiarity very much. Seraphina didn’t pity him nor fear him. To her, he was still the same Castiel from three years ago._ _

__Without his Grace, without his wings, without his powers, he felt like he had nothing. Like he _was_ nothing. But one look from her silenced those thoughts. And he wondered if simply being him was enough, wondered if he’d ever come to peace with it._ _

__“Thank you,” he said finally, trailing behind her up the stairs. “It is...appreciated.”_ _

__“Well, it’s only fair, right? I can’t count the amount of times you fixed me up,” she paused, casting a look over her shoulder. “Even when you weren’t supposed to.”_ _

__“I have been told I’m not good at following orders. Perhaps if I had been, none of this would have happened.”_ _

__“Free will comes with choices and subsequent consequences,” Seraphina pointed out gently, leading him into a bathroom. “Knowing what you know now, would you do anything differently?”_ _

__Castiel thought a moment, quietly contemplating her words as she guided him to sit on the edge of the bathtub. As he thought, he watched her getting out a first-aid kit from underneath the sink, and she silently commanded him to remove his coat and suit jacket. With great care, she took care of rolling his dress shirt sleeves up to his elbows. It was a foreign, exposing feeling._ _

__Finally, Castiel looked down at her. “I would.”_ _

__Seraphina knelt in front of him, so close that he could smell her. She smelled of honey and strawberries._ _

__“That’s good,” she said gently, “This is probably going to sting a bit. But, like I said. That’s good. It means you learned. You can’t take back what you’ve done, Castiel. And it’s a waste of time wishing you could. And you can apologize until you’re blue in the face. None of it will change what’s already been done. What matters is what you do after the apology.”_ _

__Castiel tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at her in thought. “Repent?”_ _

__She dabbed lightly at the raw skin of his hand with a water-soaked cotton ball. “No. You make an effort to be different. Y’know, to learn from your mistakes.”_ _

__“It seems my attempts at such have been one failing after the next.”_ _

__Seraphina finally looked up at him. “The greatest lessons are often learned through failure and mistakes, Castiel.”_ _

__“Not ones as catastrophic as mine.”_ _

__“Well, I’m gonna be cleaning you up for a while, so...tell me.”_ _

__“Tell you what?”_ _

__Seraphina nodded. “Everything. Tell me everything. Start from the beginning.”_ _

__Castiel looked away from her, past her. “How much do you wish to know?”_ _

__“Spare me no details,” she said, returning to what she was doing. He found he rather liked feeling her small hand hold his. “I have all night, Castiel.”_ _

__She raised her eyes again and Castiel felt his fingers twitch in her gentle hold. Her hand was cold, he realized. But her gaze was so warm._ _

__“One night might not be enough.” His voice was so soft he could barely hear himself._ _

__And he wasn’t so sure he was talking about the same thing anymore. When her lips pulled into another smile, he knew he hadn’t been referring to the detailing of the past three years. One night _with her_ might not be enough. _ _

__“Then however many it takes.”_ _

__Castiel was both relieved and disappointed that she seemed oblivious to his true meaning. The rush of emotions he always felt around Seraphina had only grown more intense and he suspected it had something to do with his newfound human status. He pressed the thoughts to the back of his mind for now. He would deal with that later._ _

__“Very well. I will start with what happened after Lucifer was put back into the Cage with Michael.”_ _

__As he started, he could only hope that she wouldn’t despise him by the end of it all._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the wait, everyone! I know this chapter was a bit slow, but the fluff and smut will come ( _wink wink_ ) soon! Strap yourselves in, 'cause this is gonna be a wild ride. 
> 
> Also, please drop a kudos and/or a comment! I love, love, love knowing that people are interested in this. 
> 
> And, as always, forgive any typos - I beta these myself and might miss a few things.


End file.
